How to Make a Monster
by Always A Dragon
Summary: Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown was a terrible relationship. But what might have happened had Lavender been slightly less forgiving? AU, involving an OOC Lavender Brown. Written for the IWSC Round 3 Season 2.


**A/N: I go by book canon. The italics are flashbacks (starting the day after Lavender and Ron's breakup) and everything else is set in the present.**

**This is an AU fic. Includes character death and some messed up stuff.**

**In this fic, Lavender is very OOC. An explanation of why is listed at the end of this fic, but you'll have to read the fic first to understand. I don't believe Canon Lavender would do such a thing.**

**Story Title: How to Make a monster **

**School and Theme: Hogwarts, ****Creature Induced Injuries**

**Main Prompt: (quote) ** **"It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up" - V Lombardi**

**Additional Prompts: (emotion) heartbreak and (action) getting into a fight**

**Year: 6**

**Wordcount: 2913**

* * *

Lavender Brown stood on the pebbled beach of the Black Lake, eyes as dark as the night sky, her figure cast in shadow. Her nerves tingled with the promise of revenge and the hunger for vengeance. In the silence that surrounded her, Lavender Brown plotted murder.

The sky was dark; it was midnight, after all. A full moon shone on the murky waters, and every rock glistened with silver. It was quiet; she was alone.

* * *

_The day after she had caught Ron walking down the stairs with Hermione Granger had been horrible._

_Lavender had woken to a grey, overcast morning, the light filtering steadily through the scarlet hangings. For a few seconds she didn't know why her chest was so tight or why there was a lump in her throat. Then she remembered, and the morning seemed even more dismal._

_It was a chore, getting up. She'd hoped that Granger would still be asleep but luck did not seem to be on her side. A mane of bushy hair greeted her the second Lavender opened her four-poster's curtains._

_All the rage and pain and loss and hurt intensified until Lavender either felt like she would explode or shatter. Lavender dressed quickly–she was loathe to spend any more time with that hag._

* * *

Lavender waved her wand, muttering the spell under her breath. A clear bubble wrapped itself around her head. Her vision was slightly distorted now, and the details that surrounded her seemed faded. It didn't matter, since the moonlight was still bright enough. Where Lavender was going she would _need_ the bubble-head charm; without it she wouldn't be able to draw breath.

* * *

_After quitting the girls' dormitory, Lavender headed down to the Great Hall. Breakfast was a solemn affair. Lavender thought she couldn't possibly cry anymore after last night, but tears still dripped endlessly down her nose. Parvati, thankfully, knew to leave her alone._

_Lavender glanced upwards, her attention caught by a glimpse of red hair and freckled skin, accompanied by enthusiastic chatter in a voice she knew well. It was Ron._

_A fresh wave of grief swept over Lavender as she quietly sipped her pumpkin juice. Doubt, too. Maybe if she hadn't yelled at him, Ron and Lavender would never have broken up…_

_No. That was silly._

_Lavender couldn't think like that. If Ron was going to go off snogging other girls while he was supposed to be _her_ girlfriend, then Lavender was right to ditch him._

_But he _had _loved her, hadn't he?_

_The pumpkin juice shook in her hand and another tear rolled down Lavender's cheek as she watched her red-haired former-boyfriend walk away, followed closely by a grinning Hermione Granger._

* * *

She stowed her wand in her pocket. Lavender had heard the tales of the Giant Squid, the lake-weed that curled around ankles and the less-than-friendly merpeople. It would be stupid for her not to take her wand, in case she needed to defend herself. Her heart was in her throat. What if she didn't find what she was looking for? What if everything went wrong? It was dangerous, what she was planning. She tried to take a step towards the icy waters, but her feet were rooted into the ground.

Lavender took a deep breath, and thought with pure hatred of the face of Hermione Granger. That freed her, and she stumbled towards the lake. The pebbles were smooth under her feet, like glass, and the rain from earlier in the day made them even more slippery. She nearly twisted her ankle several times, but Lavender gritted her teeth and crossed the beach. Lavender had left her shoes behind–they would be of no use when she was swimming.

* * *

_Classes were even worse. There, Lavender had no privacy, and was the object of curious glances all day. She wished she could disappear, but such a thing was impossible. Ron was in all her classes, and Lavender noted how closely he was followed by Granger. The bushy-haired know-it-all was cheery and happy; it was obvious she didn't care a jot about how Lavender was feeling. All through the day, as tears soaked into her empty notebook, Lavender felt her anger steadily growing. It was a poisonous feeling, but Lavender couldn't care less. Every word Granger said, every single thing, Lavender heard and fed to her fury. Her mind was swirling now, both with anger and grief, not taking in anything Professor Flitwick was saying._

_Lavender finally, truly, completely understood what hate was, and it made her powerful._

_Behind her, Ron laughed, and another tear dripped onto Lavender's notebook._

* * *

Lavender was at the edge of the water now, the tiny ripples lapping at her ankles. It was cold, but she'd expected that. She wasn't sure what she felt more; fear at what she was doing, anger at Granger or sadness at what she had lost. Lavender had lost not only Ron, but any semblance of the person she had been mere months ago. She was different, changed. Did that make her a monster?

Lavender wondered if Parvati would be horrified at her if she knew what Lavender was doing. Going to do. Lavender felt her heart harden. Again, Granger's self-satisfied face swam into view, and Lavender pushed those thoughts away. This was for the best, for the greater good.

She would get Ron back. She had to.

Just like he had to love her.

Rolling up her sleeves, the bubble-head charm providing oxygen, Lavender dived into the depths of the Black Lake.

* * *

_Lavender couldn't sleep that night. She headed down to the common room as soon as Granger came upstairs. She sat by the fire, her brown strands of hair turning orange in the firelight. It was only when she realised it was one in the morning that Lavender headed to bed. She pushed open the dormitory door quietly, surveying the four girls sleeping soundly. Lavender's hatred from that day built up until she wanted to scream and shout and rage. But she did not. Instead, Lavender Brown stood inside the half-light of the girls' dormitory, quietly leaning against the stone wall._

_It was easy for Lavender to imagine Granger dead._

_How she hated her–oh how she loathed that bushy-haired know-it-all. Granger had been resentful from the start of Lavender and Ron's relationship. She'd even refused to speak to Ron the moment Lavender and Ron had started going out. Granger was jealous, and in the end Ron had listened to her. What had happened to the times Ron and Lavender had sneaked out at night, watching the stars off a balcony? What had happened to the times when she'd talked for hours about constellations and astronomy and he would listen happily? Did none of that count? Lavender had been there for Ron all the time, even when he'd been poisoned. She'd sat by his bedside whenever she had the chance. Did he not remember that? Did that not matter? Grief enveloped her, pushing away the happiness. Did not knowing happiness make her a monster? Lavender found she didn't really mind if she was. There were more important things to think about._

_The candles in their brackets cast a gentle, serene glow over the dormitory. Lavender shifted her weight from one foot to the other, noticing how her arm had grown cold from how long it'd been pressed against the stone wall. She could feel her eyelids drooping. Traipsing over to her bed, still full of rage and pain, Lavender drew the curtains and fell asleep instantly._

* * *

It was hard to see through the murky water, and even harder to see through the bubble-head charm. The bottom of the lake was primarily mud, clumps of lake-weed and a few large stones. The scene was eerie and strange. The silence was deafening.

Lavender kept her eyes open, searching for a tell-tale shift in the weed below. Nothing. There was nothing.

On and on she swam, her hands and feet starting to grow numb from the cold. Lavender had come this far–she was not going to give up now.

* * *

_The next day, she wandered the bookshelves aimlessly, trailing her fingers over the spines. Lavender wasn't sure how long she stayed there. Time seemed to slow down._

_And then she found it. It was as if fate and destiny had collaborated together, drawing her to that exact bookshelf. The book was thrown in haphazardly. Its edges were dusted with the remains of concealing spells._

_She picked it up. The title was faded, unintelligible. The subject matter was clear, however. It was a book on poison._

_A thousand thoughts ran through Lavender's head as the book trembled in her hand._

_Finally. Finally, she knew how to get rid of Granger, once and for all._

_Lavender Brown stood there, in the library, plotting murder._

* * *

It could've been hours, or it could've been minutes. Lavender could hardly feel her hands anymore. She was freezing. Sometimes, moonlight glistened down through the water, illuminating the subterranean world, but more often than not Lavender couldn't see more than just a few meters. She glided over another patch of weed, hoping for a glimpse of grey-green skin, just an indication that _something_ was living amongst the lake-weed, anything at all. Lavender couldn't give up, she _wouldn't _give up. It was impossible to comprehend such a thing.

And then she saw it, hidden almost completely by the tangled black ribbons it lived in. Her heart nearly leapt into her throat. It was there, below her. A waving of lake-weed, a small glimpse of Grindylow horns–but that was all she needed. Lavender took out her wand, hoping the distortion caused by the bubble-head charm wouldn't impair her vision. She knew it was dangerous, what she was doing. She knew it was illegal.

Did that make her a monster?

But this was important. Lavender had to save her Ronald.

Her wand hand shaking ever so slightly, her heart filled with equal amounts of dread, anger and jealousy, she swam close to the black weed, ignoring all sense and reason.

* * *

_She knew this was wrong. So why didn't she care? Lavender stared at the bubbling black liquid inside the cauldron, her face expressionless. The book on poison lay at her feet, propped open to the instructions she was working on. Lavender was nearly done–it amazed her that she hadn't blown up the Room of Requirement yet._

_It amazed her that she'd gotten this far. That she'd managed to sneak the book out of the library in broad daylight in the first place, or that her disappearances were never mentioned by her friends._

_It was a relief, honestly, being away from the Gryffindor Common Room at the moment. Granger seemed to be everywhere; sitting in Lavender's favourite chair, hanging around Ron, reading in the girl's dormitory, hanging around Ron…_

_Lavender couldn't stand her. Every time they met, Lavender's heart seemed to crumple and disappear. Granger was the reason Ron no longer loved Lavender, the reason Lavender and Ron no longer spent nights on balconies staring into the star-studded skies. It ripped a hole in Lavender, and she hated it._

_Just a drop of poison and Granger could be dead…_

_Granger was the reason for everything that had gone wrong in Lavender's life. Now Lavender had something to give the Monster, something that would last a lifetime, and end it simultaneously. The cauldron in front of her bubbled darkly. Lavender had to let it stew for a week, before adding in the final ingredient._

_A Grindylow, freshly killed._

_Maybe Lavender was a monster herself, but she didn't care. Not anymore._

* * *

For a minute, Lavender almost panicked. She couldn't see anything amongst the tangles and clumps of lake-weed that swirled around her. The bubble around her head caused everything to appear closer and larger than they really were; many times she reached out to push away a particularly large clump of weed only to have her hands grasp nothing at all. It was disconcerting; the silence was even more so. Lavender could feel her breath quickening and her heart pounding against her rib-cage.

She was doing this for Ron, she reminded herself. She was doing this for him. The hurt and anger pumped through her veins.

Granger couldn't–mustn't–take Ron away from her. Ronald Weasley was _Lavender's _Won-Won. _Hers._

She swam through tunnels of noiselessly moving lake-weed. She needed that Grindylow, to drag it to the surface and make it pay for all the crimes Granger had committed.

Where was it?

Without warning, a hand snapped onto Lavender's leg, and she twisted around. Long, gnarly fingers curled around her ankle, and Lavender's heart soared in triumph as she shot a stunning spell at the Grindylow behind her. It howled noiselessly, instantly letting go of her. The creature was ugly, even in the dark; a fury pounding behind its eyes that Lavender understood so well. She felt no sympathy for it.

Here it was, the last ingredient to her potion. She seized the Grindylow. Now it was _her _grip that imprisoned it, not the other way round. She would drag it up to the surface, let it suffocate and die.

Lavender liked how easily she could detach herself from common feelings such as sadness. It gave her a power she revelled in, an ability that separated her from Granger.

Unexpectedly, Lavender's breath slowed, as she suddenly felt the icy water around her and the way everything was dark and forbidding. The Grindylow stopped trying to sink its teeth into Lavender's arm.

Something was wrong. Something was out of place.

Black shapes rose silently and swiftly out of the lake-weed, surrounding Lavender. There must have been thirty or forty of them.

It was surreal.

It was like a nightmare.

Grindylows, all of them. As one, curled and pointed fingers reached for her face, for her arms, dragging her down, down, down. Lavender shrieked, casting spell after spell after spell. The Grindylows and the darkness and the silence was all encompassing. Lavender cast every spell she knew, even curses she'd found in archaic library books. Grindylow blood tainted the dark waters of the Black Lake, but for every creature killed, another two took its place. There was no way to stop them, but Lavender fought on in complete silence. She was not finished. She needed revenge, she needed justice. She needed Ron, and she needed Granger to be dead. She needed her poison to be finished, she needed a Grindylow–

The silence broke, the darkness lifted. A small crack and the sound of wood splintering was all it took for Lavender to lose her concentration. It rent through the waters, a few bright sparks illuminating the charging forces of the Grindylow army.

No.

No, this wasn't happening. The broken pieces of Lavender's wand drifted away into the depths of the lake. Her wand–it was gone forever. Loss pierced Lavender's heart. First Ron, then her happiness, and now this. Without a wand, she had no power. Lavender was an Acromantula without venom; a Manticore without a sting; a Basilisk without eyes. The fragments of wood vanished from her sight, and Lavender was immediately swarmed by Grindylows, dragging her down. She stared at them in hatred, trying vainly to push them away. This shouldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening. Lavender knew her bubble-head charm would only hold for a minute or two without her wand, and she wouldn't be able to breathe without it. Already her head felt dizzy, and the Grindylows were blurring together. Lavender held desperately onto life. She would _not _give up. Not ever. Never.

* * *

_The winter rains had drenched the Quidditch pitch, rendering it muddy and miserable. It was this dreary scene that Lavender and Ron stared out at now. They were curled up in the same armchair, Lavender's heart thrumming with happiness._

_"Won-won?" She asked. "You know I love you, right?"_

_Ron jerked out of sleep, staring at nothing._

_"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, sure…"_

_"Ron?"_

_"What?"_

"And…"

_"And what?" He answered, slurring his words. Lavender rolled her eyes. Ron seemed to be drifting off to sleep again._

_"And do you love _me_?"_

_There was a pause, the only sound being the rain hitting the common room window._

_"Yeah, Lavender, of course I do."_

_She only realised months later that Ronald Weasley hadn't been listening to a thing she said._

* * *

Lavender's bubble-head charm was disintegrating rapidly. Lavender had come this far, she couldn't die now. Granger was still alive, Ron was still up there…

Grief and anger swirled around her. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair at all.

No. Her heart was crumpling again, the sharp fingers of the Grindylows were tugging her down into the depths of the lake–

The bubble-head charm burst, completely collapsed.

A few weak slivers of moonlight twinkled down from the surface of the lake above.

With one last silent cackle from the Grindylows, Lavender was dragged away from the world she knew. Her head was pounding, her hair was floating around her like the lake-weed, and she was lost. Lavender hadn't even realised how her heartbreak and anger had consumed her, how easily she had turned into a monster.

The edges of her vision were going blurry and her lungs felt painful.

Lavender muttered something, tiny bubbles issuing from her mouth, staring up where the surface of the lake must be.

A name.

Just one, only one.

_Ronald Weasley._

Her fingers grasped at the dark waters of the Black Lake, before finally closing forever. She was gone.

* * *

**A/N: **

**I warned you Lavender would be OOC. _This _Lavender Brown is selfish, jealous and uncaring, and has no regards to the feelings of others - and just for clarification I'm not implying that this change in character came about _because _of the breakup, but rather Lavender had always been this way. I wanted to wonder what might have happened had Lavender had a much crueller, jealous personality, and then the fic kind of… morphed… into this. **

**Explanation of Theme:**

-Evidently there is Lavender's doomed battle with the Grindylows, which is the major conflict in this fic. However, there is also Lavender's appearance of the scarier, eviller side of her, the side that is indifferent to murder. The increase in this side of her personality erases her compassion and humanity, until she is just a "human monster", leading her to attack and kill the Grindylows that live in the Black Lake.

**Explanation of Prompts:**

**(quote)"It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up" - V Lombardi**

-While this quote is not actually part of the dialogue, (evil) Lavender becomes jealous of Hermione (she is knocked down), then finds a way to get rid of her "enemy" and puts the plan into action (she gets up). I just put a dark spin on the quote.

**(emotion) Heartbreak**

-_This _Lavender Brown is angry, jealous and full of hatred, but she is also deeply heartbroken over Ron. Her jealousy and anger is fuelled by her grief and her hatred at Hermione is the product of her refusal to believe that Ron doesn't love her.

Again, the Lavender Brown in _this_ fic is OOC.

**(action) Getting into a fight**

-First of all, there's the fight with the Grindylows (which is pretty important), but there's also _that_ fight, the fight Lavender had with Ron. This happens before my fic started, but I wanted to explore Lavenders' reaction to the break-up, and how she was affected.


End file.
